Abbas Mohamed “Know Your Privilege”

Know your privilege: I am privileged to hear ice clinking in my lemonade while a palestinian boy dies asking his mother why they won’t let water in through the apartheid wall. His story: not important enough for a press release, his name: irrelevant, his life: collateral damage in a war that profits the occupier’s pocket because you voted against divestment.

Know your privilege: I am privileged to have enough literacy to read between the lines. History repeats itself, and I see his story repeating itself, first in the arms of his father against a wall who cowered over him and took his bullets, then again as one of four boys who played soccer on the beach looking for the goalpost but finding a rocket instead, then again as Mohammed Abu Khdeir, I watched his story as he was snatched from the street and burned alive, I watched their stories from my privileged middle class suburban home on my flat screen TV. I keep hearing of further tyranny every time I turn on the news, can’t you tell me something that won’t bring me the blues? I try to piece the truth together from broken clues because the media with lies is saturated and infused, It just leaves me confused when the truth is refused, from investigative reports and “independent” reviews from an agenda that they choose, and yet they still call it fair and balanced news!

Know your privilege: You won’t have to tell that to Tariq Abu Khdeir twice, Tariq: from Florida to Filisteen, from gamestop shops to racist cops stopping you in your own homeland for a proper welcome, because the official handshake of an Israeli Defence Officer is from the bottom of his boots, Tariq you got a taste of Palestine, but managed to retreat to your safe haven in Florida, but your cousin Mohammed did not, he was burned alive. no justice no peace, No Justice No Peace! Know Justice, Know Peace!

Know privilege, Know that for YOU, the biggest obstacle in going to school might be shoveling your car out of the snow, while for Palestinians, there are four checkpoints standing in the way of education. four checkpoints, four chances for you to watch your friend get shoved to the ground and beaten, four chances for the guards to revoke your papers, four chances for the person in front of you to disappear and never see his family again, four chances…and thats just on the WAY to school.

I know my privilege now. It is a privilege to be relaying stories to open ears, stories from deaf mouths, stories drowned in lullabies of screaming rockets and exploding streets that lay Palestinian children to eternal sleep. It is my privilege to carry their brave banner in this manner and lay out their rage on this page so that when the day comes for you to make a decision about Palestine you cannot use your blissful privilege to claim ignorance.